The Rude Urchin
by Hebi-san
Summary: A story of how Severus Snape came to live at Malfoy Manor, and how Lucius and Severus first met.


The Rude Urchin

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Warnings: Mentioning of child abuse... death... and that's about it.

Characters: Lucius and Severus

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Muggle towns were all the same, in Lucius' opinion. Dreary, huddled buildings, with dreary, huddled muggles in them, all gathered together in some sort of mismatched attempt to make an area liveable.

Why his father had brought him here he couldn't begin to phantom, as his day could've been better spent at the Ministry, he was certain his father could've found some colleague who would be pleased to show the heir of the Malfoy fortune around. Really they all wanted nothing better than to talk to him, even if he was merely sixteen at the moment they all knew that the quickest way to Abraxas' ear was through his son.

To make matters worse his old man had dumped him here at the inn, whilst he and some colleagues talked "business" upstairs. Business that he was obviously not supposed to hear, though he had a fair idea of what it was about. Amongst the men who had greeted his father in this very same foyer no more than half an hour ago, there had been one man who had not given his name. Everyone was always careful to introduce themselves to his father, unless of course the person in question was trying to hide their identity. It didn't take a genius to figure out which person in the country needed to hide in these times. The Dark lord, Lucius mused and leaned back in the dingy couch that was standing in front of the window. Who would've thought that at merely sixteen he'd be able to see the man? If he played his cards right he may even get a chance to address the man before his father and he went back to the manor.

Though, he supposed that opportunity would still be far off, as their meeting would no doubt take at least a few more hours.

In the meantime Lucius was forced to find his own manner of entertainment.

Frowning he looked back out at the dreary little muggle town. Snow lay thick and white on the rooftops, and on the yards, but the streets were muddy and worn. Here and there muggles dragged themselves, obviously unable to walk with a straight back and show pride in themselves. But then again, what did muggles have to be proud off? Especially in this little wayward hole of a town.

What was it called again?

"Clerk," he spoke up, not bothering to turn his head to make sure that he had the man's attention. He heard shuffling footsteps, as the man quickly walked over to him, nearly leaning over him, and Lucius wrinkled his nose. "Don't lean over me like some dog, clerk. Your odour is less than pleasing and I'd rather not have you drool on me."

Glancing up lazily he saw the young, beady looking man, blush, and he quickly took a step back with an ugly, disgruntled expression on his face.

Lucius smirked. "Now, would you tell me again what this dingy town is called?"

Another blush rose on the muggle's face, and when he replied his voice was thick with dislike. "Spinner's End, sir."

Lucius nodded. "A suitable name, no doubt." He agreed noncommittally, still eyeing the ugliness of the town. Agreed the Inn where he was sitting was hardly up to par with his standard, but it was definitely cleaner than any other house in the town. "You may leave."

He heard the clerk shuffle off again, muttering something under his breath, but he paid little notice of this for in the same moment he saw a row of black clad people walk down the road in front of the Inn. Between them they carried a casket, and Lucius raised an eyebrow. A funeral?

"Wait," he called out, stopping the clerk from going back to his desk, and urged him to return to stand beside him. Nodding towards the funeral procession he asked: "Who died?"

The clerk looked up, frowning as he watched the procession slowly huddle their way past; "It's Mr. Snape, sir. He got ill just over a week ago, nobody knows why. Dropped dead last night. That's his son over there," the clerk pointed to a small, black clad figure trudging along with the rest of the people. The boy couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old, Lucius thought, as he followed the small figure with his eyes. "Poor kid. His mom passed away six months ago, you know, and…"

"You may leave, clerk." Lucius interrupted the muggle before the man thought he could stand there and talk to him like equals, just because he had asked a simple question. Really these muggles had no manners whatsoever.

As he watched the funeral procession continued down the road, and disappeared between the ugly little houses. He briefly wondered where they would go with the casket, but then his eye was irrevocably drawn to the building that towered on small hill in the middle of the town. It was as dingy and dirty as anything else in the town, but unlike any of the other buildings it had a large tower, with a cross at the very top. He had a vague recollection that it had something to do with muggle-religion, something the Muggle studies professor at Hogwarts had told him when he had gone to those classes. Not that those classes had lasted very long. The moment Abraxas had heard of it he had made sure that Lucius dropped those classes; _"A waste of valuable time and effort"_ he had called it and had insisted that his son would attend different classes in its stead. Lucius hadn't pushed the issue, knowing that it was little use.

But some of the information he had snatched up in that time now made itself reminded.

The building was called a church, if he wasn't remembering it wrong. Muggle words always sounded so harsh and odd to him, so he could be mistaken.

It was probably the place where they'd bring the casket, he decided. He had heard that Muggle-religion was tightly wrapped up with the idea of life and death, so it wasn't a too farfetched idea. Feeling bored in the Inn, which was never a good sign as most of his misdemeanours through the years could be traced back to boredom, Lucius got up from his seat and ventured outside.

Absentmindedly he followed the path he had seen the procession take, and sure enough also soon found himself at a graveyard. Gazing across the snowclad graveyard he caught sight of the procession, where they were lowering the casket into the ground, the man in the front making some sort of gesture while he seemed to be holding a speech.

He watched the proceedings for a while, until he began to feel cold. Idiotic muggle clothing, he thought as he walked across the yard towards the church where he figured he could warm up. Muggle clothing was certainly not the best of clothes, it never kept him warm when it was cold, nor did it keep him cool when it was warm.

The small, run down church smelled dank and there was an underlying scent of neglect evident in both the air and the décor.

Walking down the aisle slowly he studied the abraded benched critically, wondering why it seemed that these muggles seemed content with living in such decay. Certainly the entire town seemed to be withering down over their heads and they didn't seem to care.

A choked sound in the otherwise silent church caught his attention, and Lucius looked up. At first glance he couldn't find the source of the noise, but then he saw a small, dark head at the front of the church.

Tilting his head he walked closer, until he was standing next to the bench and he looked down at the boy sitting there. The boy didn't look up at him, didn't even give any sign of him noticing Lucius' presence, which for some reason annoyed him. Perhaps it was just because he was used to people always recognising his presence, and the boy's blatant refusal of acting according to the norm, that made him take a seat next to the boy.

He thought he could see the boy's eyes briefly turn his way, but he wasn't certain since the boy made no move to speak.

"You're the son of the deceased, are you not? Snape?" Lucius asked after a brief pause, eyeing the small figure critically. The boy stiffened.

"Leave me alone," he said in a low voice, and Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"You are though, are you not?" Lucius prompted, curious in the child's rough demeanour.

"What's it to you?" came the annoyed answer, as the boy still refused to look at him.

"The clerk at the Inn pointed you out for me."

"So you decided to indulge me with your annoying presence because…?" came the gruff response. Lucius pursed his lips thoughtfully. Perhaps he had been incorrect about the boy's age; he certainly didn't speak like a seven year old.

"How old are you?"

"What's it to you?"

Lucius felt a twitch of annoyance. This boy was not being cooperative. "If you continue answering each of my questions with a question in return this conversation will die out rather quickly I'm afraid. "

"Good."

Wonderful, the annoying twat was ignoring him again. Lucius fought down the urge to beat the boy over the head.

"How did you father die?" he asked after another brief pause.

At first there was no answer, but just when he had given up on receiving one the boy replied in a hushed whisper, that Lucius was rather certain he wasn't supposed to hear; "I killed him."

Lucius smirked. Surely the boy was just yanking his chain. An urchin that small couldn't kill a rat let alone a fully grown man. "Really?" he said, feigning surprise. "And how, pray tell, did you manage that?"

Again the boy stiffened, and Lucius found himself genuinely surprised at that. It seemed that the boy, unlike as most kids would, hadn't missed the mocking tone in his voice. Slowly the boy raised his head, and looked at him for the first time. Lucius couldn't look away from the small, gaunt, white face and obsidian black eyes, and he couldn't help but thinking that the boy must be malnourished.

"By magic," the boy admitted in a hiss, a serious look in his eyes. Lucius' eyes widened, for he realised in that moment that the boy wasn't lying to him.

He stared into those large, black eyes, for once feeling utterly flabbergasted. This boy had..?

"How?" he heard himself ask.

"I told you that already, Barbie," the boy snorted, and gingerly got to his feet. They way he moved were odd, Lucius thought. The boy seemed very careful with every movement he made, as if he wasn't quite comfortable in his own skin.

"Why?" Lucius asked instead, as it was obvious that the brat wasn't about to answer his other question.

The boy glared at him darkly, his black bangs falling down to partly hide his pale and much too thin face. A shadow of some emotion Lucius couldn't read flittered across the boy's face for a second, before it was abruptly discarded and the white face smoothened again.

"That's none of _your_ business," the boy huffed icily, and quickly moved to walk past him.

When he moved past him though, Lucius instinctively reached out and grabbed the boy's wrist.

The boy cried out, and tried to jerk his arm free, but Lucius didn't let go. Instead he felt an icy feeling of dread run through him, and he gently tugged the protesting boy closer.

"Let go of me, you blond-haired idiot!" the boy yelled with an edge of panic in his voice.

Lucius ignored him, and grabbed a hold of the boy's other arm while he lifted the one he'd grabbed the boy's wrist with. It came away stained with blood.

He heard the boy's breathing hitch.

And when Lucius lifted the boy's sleeve he struggled to get free. With an annoyed snarl Lucius got to his feet, and none too gently dragged the boy back to the bench where he forced him down.

"Hold still," he snapped, giving the boy a hard glare. The white face looked surprised, frozen in shock. "I won't harm you."

He wasn't certain why but that seemed to calm the boy, perhaps he just realised that he had little chance of getting away, and he let Lucius lift his sleeve although the boy himself looked away. There was a small, angry flush on his gaunt cheeks, as he ignored Lucius as best he could.

Looking away from the boy's face, Lucius instead focused on his wrist. He had been correct to assume that the boy was malnourished; he thought when he gently grabbed a hold of the thin wrist to examine the raw cut that reached from the white wrist to a bony little elbow. He wasn't a medi-witch, obviously, but even he could see the signs. They were as clear as day. The boy had been neglected and abused in the same manner as the town itself, he thought bitterly.

"It's deep," he muttered.

"If you hadn't abused me the way you did it would've been fine," the boy replied with a hiss. "It…"

"Did he do this to you?" Lucius interrupted the stubborn urchin forcefully, feeling a rage he was uncommon with flood through him at that though.

"Who else?" the boy said bitterly.

"Is that why you killed him?"

"…no… I…"

Lucius leaned back, still holding on to the thin wrist gently. Silently he cursed his lack of knowledge in the healing arts, or he'd been able to heal the cut easily. The boy was still not looking at him, merely kept his dark eyes stiffly directed towards the front of the church where an altar of some sort stood.

Just when Lucius opened his mouth to prompt an answer from the boy the boy spoke up.

"He murdered my mother." He said tightly, his thin face white and tense with restrained emotion. "Threw her down the stairs. He told them it was an accident. That she stumbled. I was awake… I saw it… He walked away free. He'd have killed me too… eventually… if…"

The boy broke off, his voice strained and quivering. He was breathing rapidly now, his breath wheezing when he struggled to contain his emotions.

"He deserved what he got." Lucius said firmly, causing the boy to look over at him with surprise. Slowly reaching out he stroked the black hair softly. "I won't tell. He was a filthy muggle, and an abuser and murderer. He deserved it."

The boy looked completely flabbergasted, unable to respond.

"Meanwhile," Lucius continued in a softer tone as he got to his feet, gently urging the boy to come along. "You need to see a medi-witch. Come with me, my family has access to the very best in the business."

"I don't have any money, I can't…" the boy protested weakly, as he followed Lucius down the aisle.

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of that. "

Roughly the boy snatched his arm away, and Lucius turned to look at him in surprise.

"I won't take your charity," the boy snapped, suddenly angry. "I can take care of these myself, I…"

"You're injured. I'm guessing that that cut on your arm is not the only one you got," Lucius snapped back, frowning. "You need medical attention."

"I'm not a charity case," the boy snarled, edging away from him carefully. His black eyes darted around as if searching for an escape. Like a cornered animal, Lucius thought. Whatever that horrid father had done with this kid it was obvious that it had caused some lasting damage.

"Let's make it a loan then," he compromised. "You can pay me back whenever you got the means to do so."

There was a flicker of uncertainty in those too large, dark eyes, and the boy stopped and eyed him suspiciously. "A loan?"

"Yes, a loan. I'm sure you have heard of the term before." Lucius drawled.

"Of course I know what a loan is, Barbie." The boy snapped back, obviously aggravated by being talked down to. Lucius couldn't help but feel amused. "I'm not an idiot."

"So we have a deal?" he asked, holding out his hand for the boy, who continued to glare at him with annoyance and suspicion.

Eventually the boy nodded, a sharp, sullen movement. Then he hastily walked past Lucius, ignoring his outstretched hand.

Shaking his head Lucius followed him, easily catching up as he was longer.

"I'm Lucius Malfoy." He introduced himself, and was rewarded with a grunt from the boy that clearly stated that he couldn't care less. Certainly the boy needed to be taught how to behave properly, Lucius noted absently. He'd make sure of that. "This would be the part where you in turn introduce yourself to me. Unless you'd prefer I simply refer to you as the rude urchin."

The boy sent him a dark glare at that, and mumbled something intangible.

"Pardon?"

"Severus Snape." The boy said with a sigh. "It's my name."

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Author's notes: Another silly idea. Had to write it down before it got stuck permanently in my head. Hope you like it.


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